


Shame and Glory

by teaandtumblr



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon, I got bored, also a bit cute, child fic, import from ff.net, just fun, merlin and arthur meet as kids, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandtumblr/pseuds/teaandtumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't understand! If I fall here, now, the tale of me lying on the ground bruised and mangled is the story that will spread throughout the kingdom!" Responsibility was sometimes the hardest thing - for a child. Arthur/Merlin friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shame and Glory

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: so this is my first dabble into Merlin territory. The idea came to me after an acquaintance of mine told me of a conversation he had once had with Prince Harry, when his Highness was around eleven years old. And so, I came up with this. Enjoy.

()~~~~~()~~~~~()~~~~~()

"I am not _scared_."

"My mother tells me that it's alright to be scared sometimes."

"I am _not_ scared."

He was met with a disbelieving look and Arthur huffed, folding his arms across his chest defiantly. The peasant boy that was the victim of his glare merely remained indifferent, going as far as to look as though he might even _laugh_. Laugh? At him? Prince Arthur of Camelot?

Arthur's frown became even more pronounced. "Laugh and I'll have your head."

The boy's mouth dropped open. "You can't have my head for laughing!" he exclaimed indignantly. "That's not fair!"

"It doesn't have to be _fair_."

Silence met his ears and Arthur prided himself on his victory. At a mere six years of age, he celebrated every victory as though he had slain himself a knight. And besides, he was _not_ going to be bested by some peasant boy who lived in a village that he, Arthur, didn't even know the name off because it was so insignificant – according to his father anyway.

"…but that doesn't mean that you're not scared."

There was no denying the cheeky glint in the blue eyes that met his gaze easily, their owner bouncing gaily on the balls of his feet. Arthur's lips curled into something that was neither a pout nor a scowl, more a combination of both. As it was, he was only truly starting to grow out of his pouting phase, having realised on his own accord that scowling distastefully seemed to reap him far better rewards.

"I am not scared of riding a horse!"

There, he'd said it. And a prince's word was truth. He was _not_ scared of riding a horse.

"You've never ridden one before, have you?"

The insightful question had him sulking and Arthur found he was starting to despise this peasant boy more and more the longer he lingered. "It doesn't matter to you if I have or haven't," he eventually snapped, drawing himself up to his full height by thrusting his shoulders back and lifting his chin proudly.

Unfortunately it was all for nought, as the boy, who Arthur was quite confident was younger, was still that inch or so taller. All he gained for his efforts was an inquisitive look.

"Does it hurt if you keep your shoulders like that for a long time?"

The question had him instantly deflating and he turned away from the raven-haired boy, staring instead at the fields that surrounded them. Why his father had chosen _this_ exact place to rest was beyond him. Once the patrol had settled down and Arthur had been appropriately fed, he had wandered off on his own, free to explore as Uther had made it painfully clear to the villagers what would happen if any misfortune should befall his son. His wanderings had led him to the green field he was currently standing in, the boy beside him having bounded over not long after his arrival, eyes alight with curiousity. It was the tack in the boy's hands that had started their initial conversation, the peasant boy sheepishly explaining that he really ought to be cleaning it.

"So…did you ever intend on telling me your name?"

Arthur flicked his blond hair off his face as the wind blew it into his eyes, raising his eyebrows at the boy incredulously. "You don't _know_ my name?"

He was met with a shrug. "Sorry, am I supposed to?"

The prince _did_ pout this time. "If you don't know then I'm not going to tell you," he sniffed, feeling something along the lines of offence shoot through him.

"Then I'm not going to tell you mine either!" his new acquaintance shot back, grinning blindingly. Apparently intelligence was not his strong point.

"That's _fine_ with me," Arthur assured him, dodging passed the boy and heading to the stone wall that lay behind him, sighing when he heard dogged footsteps following. As he gracefully scaled the wall, mismatched scrabbling came from behind him and when a rather loud ' _oomph!'_ was heard, Arthur could only assume his companion had fallen to the ground.

"I'm fine!" he was promptly informed.

Shaking his head in a form of 'good riddance', something he'd picked up from his nanny, the young prince stood firmly on the ground and folded his arms, impatiently waiting for the scruffy boy to join him. Not even ten seconds later a dishevelled head popped over the wall, followed by two arms, a chest, and then finally a whole body. Landing with a stumble, the boy flashed him a grin before heading across the small yard they were now in, pulling himself up when he drew alongside an embarrassingly shaggy pony.

The peasant petted the pony before giving Arthur a shy grin. "You can ride him if you like. I'm sure Mother won't mind."

Arthur's displeasure was impossible to hide. It did not, however, stop his pride from rearing up and he strode over with determined steps, eyeing the beast up disdainfully. "It can't be that _hard_ if you do it," he mused.

He was met with an enthusiastic nod. "Come on, I'll help you up."

The offer was tempting, there was no doubt about it. But, as Arthur went to accept, movement flickered in his peripheral vision and he paled at what he saw. Clearly he had been gone longer than what his father had thought acceptable and so a search had been made into his whereabouts. Now, not only was every knight in the patrol watching him eagerly; so too was his father, all of them gathered around the walls of the yard.

And that made him gulp.

With a nervous step back, Arthur firmly shook his head. "No, I can't."

His voice had lowered as he'd said it, not wanting to be overheard. To his credit, the boy opposite him seemed to understand, as his own voice was lowered when he said. "Yes you can. You can, I _promise_."

"No, I _can't_ ," he stressed.

"You _ca_ -"

"No!" Arthur hissed in a whisper. "You don't understand! I am not just trying to ride a horse. If I fall here, now, the tale of me lying on the ground bruised and mangled is the story that will spread throughout the kingdom!" He brushed away angry tears and curled his little hands into fists. "What I do now will either bring shame or glory to my family!"

There was a long pause.

"…I don't think anyone ever bought everlasting shame to their family by falling off a horse…"

Arthur glowered at him. Silly little peasant boy. What did he know? Still angry at the boy, Arthur marched over to the grubby pony, hefted one foot into the stirrup and, with only the smallest – he would like to kindly stress _smallest_ – boost from his recently acquired acquaintance, swung his other leg up and over. Once he was balanced, the reins were passed into his hands and he clung to them tightly, ever fearful that he would drop them. A soft voice from the ground guided him into bringing the pony to a walk and starting off around the yard. A few steps in and Arthur's confidence began to swell, enough so that he could raise his head without fear of toppling to the hard earth below.

As Arthur passed his father, a nod and a single clap were given to him and Arthur beamed, knowing he had done it. He had brought glory this time.

()~~~~~()~~~~~()~~~~~()

"You really are a stubborn prat, you know that, right?"

"I am not stubborn _Mer_ lin," Arthur drawled, shooting his servant a scathing glance.

"Oh no," Merlin agreed sarcastically. "Taking a near fatal wound to the chest and then still insisting you can ride. Not stubborn at all."

"Merlin, shut up." The snap was made as Arthur snagged his stallion's reins, shooting a furtive look at the knights behind to make sure their attention was elsewhere before pulling himself into the saddle. That way, should he fall, at least no one would notice.

"I mean, really, you may be a prince but that doesn't mean you-"

" _Merlin…"_

"Shut up?"

"I mean it this time. It's hard enough…" Arthur pressed a hand to his side as it jerked in pain. "…to do this without your incessant rambling. I will not _fall_."

Even as he managed to pull himself into his saddle, Merlin rolled his eyes, clucking his tongue and nudging his horse forward. Under his breath, he muttered, "I don't think anyone ever bought everlasting shame to their family by falling off a horse."

Arthur froze instantly, staring after his servant blankly. _It couldn't be…_

()~~~~~()~~~~~()~~~~~()

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: so I wanted it to be as though Merlin and Arthur had never realised they had met each other before – hence why they never introduced each other. And while Arthur may seem a little grown up for his age, hey, they lived in hard times and got taught things young. Anyway, hope you liked it.


End file.
